


Eluvians

by Zenith931



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 11:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12934197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zenith931/pseuds/Zenith931
Summary: The events immediately after my Inquisitor speaks to Solas in Trespasser.





	Eluvians

Inquisitor Aren Trevelyan watched Solas retreat from their conversation and enter the eluvian before him. Her mind roiled with waves of anger and would be half tempted to fire an arrow into that very gleaming bald head if… If…

If her hand hadn’t been enveloped by a green, crackling glow of magic. That alone would have terrified her enough, if the Anchor had been as it had been the last few years – still and quiet. Now, it’s exclamations seemed to be a regular occurrence. This exclamation was different. The Anchor had spread to envelop most of her arm, it would have threatened to kill her had Solas not ceased that threat and replaced it with its current state. Flares of green sparks dripped from her arm painlessly. Contained within their verdant lights were bits of black, black which would be her flesh that was burning like so much charcoal and falling off her in regular intervals. 

The horror of watching her arm spark and fall away from her like it was a log consumed in the Anchor’s fire left her staring in dumb horror. A voice in her head spoke after a long while of tolerating her horrified silence. *Move!*

Aren staggered to her feet and turned in the opposite direction, pinballing off stony qunari, she fled back to the eluvian she entered this place from.  
_______________________  
Dorian sat on a ruined wall around the final eluvian. They had defeated Saarebas, and the Viddasala had escaped through the eluvian. With a disgusted sneer, Aren had chased off after the qunari leader, leaving the rest of the group behind when the eluvian closed. Cassandra had battered the eluvian viciously and had to be restrained from breaking the mirror in pursuit of her friend. Dorian had tried as many spells as was possible to open or discern the way through the eluvian, but nothing was forthcoming. Cole sat nearby on another wall, seemingly unbothered by the absence of the Inquisitor. His feet hung short of the ground. His swinging legs made a constant staccato as his boots hit the stone wall.

Cassandra paced back and forth like a caged tiger. “There must be something left to do.” She demanded of Dorian for the third time.

“Short of sending off to Tevinter for the best magical scholars, there is no way to open it.” Dorian sighed tiredly. He had been racking his brain for the last hour thinking of what he could do, but the best anyone had been able to come up with was to wait and hope the Inquisitor came back through the eluvian again.

Cassandra gave a disgusted growl of disapproval and placed a hand threateningly on the hilt of her sword. “If she is lost…” the Seeker threatened ominously.

“Don’t threaten me, Seeker. I know as little of this magic and the language as you. Don’t mistake my inaction as omission instead of ignorance.” Dorian snapped back. Cassandra briefly retreated, mollified by the Tevinter’s words. Her frustration at being unable to do anything to help Aren had left the Seeker pacing and lashing out at anything as a focus of her impotent rage.

Cole hummed a little tune softly, seemingly undisturbed at the disappearance of the Inquisitor. In another attempt to find some outlet for her fury, Cassandra whipped around to Cole, “Can’t you locate her?” She demanded.

Cole looked up slowly, “She is not lost.” He said softly.

The Seeker built herself up, seeming to grow taller, “She is lost! She’s vanished through this blasted mirror!”

Cole shook his head a little, “She is elsewhere. She is angry.”

“That sounds very normal for Aren,” Dorian quipped with a sad smirk.

Cassandra let out a quiet shout of frustration and turned on her heel to resume her pacing. With a sudden rush of action, Cole leaped to his feet and began to let out a worried sort of whine, his previous humming merging with a scared, worried tone and creating a terrifying song of distress. Dorian and Cassandra both looked at the young man in horror.

“What is it? Are we in danger? Is the Inqui—“ the Seeker began to question.

Cole’s distressing sound turned to a silent rush of words, “What is happening? Pain, anguish, horror. This is not supposed to happen. What is happening? What is…” Cole’s worried verbal stream abruptly stopped and Cassandra stepped closer to the young man. The sudden silence ended when Cole’s voice suddenly dropped in tone, “She comes.”

The eluvian behind the trio burst into life and the Inquisitor staggered through the mirror. Her eyes were wild with a mix of anger and terror. Her right hand gripped her left arm tightly, immediately below her elbow. The left hand and forearm was awash in a green, magical glow. It looked as if the Anchor had spread across her entire arm, except with every falling spark of green light, the magic took some of her arm with it. The Inquisitor’s arm was dissolving before them in a steady stream of green magic.

Aren’s footing faltered as she looked at her team. Cassandra caught her friend as she tripped, her eyes fixed on the horrifying sight of her arm melting away. The Seeker immediately started demanding a stream of answers of what occurred, all of which fell unanswered. Aren’s eyes finally flickered at Cassandra with an accusing glare for her daring in demanding answers over the more pressing issue of her dissolving arm.  
_______________  
Aren’s eyes flickered between her companions, who for a moment held still, taking in the scene before them. The Inquisitor staggered as her eyes focused back on the terrifying scene of her arm slowly disappearing and her unsupervised feet tripped over rubble. Dorian caught the Inquisitor and watched as Aren’s eyes, locked on her hand, grew wider as recognizable bits of flesh dropped off and floated to the ground and vanished into nothingness. Dorian’s eyes danced over the scene, trying to discern some sort of recognizable case to interpret the magics before him. Finding none, he cast an imperceptible glance to Cassandra. Aren’s mind still struggled to respond to the scene of her arm and she stood dumbfounded and silent as she was stuck staring at her arm. 

Seeing the Inquisitor’s inability to move at the horror before her, Dorian quickly unclasped his half cloak and dropped it over Aren’s arm. Without the sight in view, Aren looked up at the duo of Cassandra and Dorian in dumb shock. As if on cue, Cassandra and Dorian jumped into action and grasped the Inquisitor on either side to escort her back towards the known eluvians and the path to Halamshiral. 

Cole stood aside from the movement, his eyes locked on the Inquisitor, with a sort of far-away expression. He didn’t say anything, but as if he did, Aren looked up at him quickly. Her eyes slowly started to glaze over, they unfocused slightly, and she seemed to gaze off.

Aren’s emotions of the last few minutes seemed to drift away as if they were a boat unsecured from a dock. The current slowly carried them away from her mind and left behind a sense of calm. The scenes her eyes relayed to her seemed to pass through a filter, which applied a haze over them. She felt like she was looking through someone else’s eyes at a horrifying scene, but it didn’t affect her. 

Aren watched in mute observance, watching her companions escort her through the Crossroads. She had enough sense to find secure footing for her feet as she was guided forward. But there was little other conscious decisions as her companions pushed forward in determined silence.

She slowly became aware of someone else in her head. It was very quiet and strained, but with the noise of the emotions and the sounds from around her quieted, she could hear it clearly despite the strain. Normally, this intrusion into her head would upset her, it would bring back memories of the demon at Therinfal; this intrusion was gentle, and almost apologetic in its approach, but it was very familiar as well.

Aren calmly gathered her thoughts and thought the greeting into her head, *Hello, Cole.*

*I’m sorry. I want to help. I had to help you to be calm.* Came Cole’s reply. He seemed very apologetic and almost bashful from the response he would typically get at his intrusion.

*So I would have you to thank for this?* Aren replied back.

*I removed your fear. For now. It will come back. Solas did everything else. You’re very angry at him.* He stated carefully.

*Yes. Do you know what he did?* She responded. She was asking more to gauge the level of knowledge from the young man then to tell him the events. She probably couldn’t accurately describe the events right now. They seemed jumbled, disorganized and far away with Cole’s influence. 

*Yes. He doesn’t want to hurt. But he did.*

Aren seemed to remember she should be angry about the mention of Solas, but it felt bizarre, as if she didn’t have the energy or will to summon the anger. The feeling of feeling discombobulated slowly passed, making her feel as if she should respond with the appropriate emotion, but being incapable of doing so, but then also finding the moment of response gone. 

Aren never felt pain from the effects of her arm. Solas had been friendly enough to erase the pain that Aren assumed would normally be affiliated with whatever was occurring to her arm. The pain wasn’t what made her react in horror – it was the mere sight of seeing her arm slowly dissolve before her. But in the Cole-induced altered mindset, even the terror of seeing a limb slowly flake away like sparks off a flame, it seemed so far-away and almost unimportant.

__________________  
The party skipped through eluvian after eluvian. They approached the final mirror, with Halamshiral on the other side. The passage through the final mirror sent Aren’s mind into a spin, the passage from the Crossroads to reality seemed to lift a filter off her eyes as the light faded to a normal level. Cole’s presence in her head winked away. With him, the hindrance from her hurt and horror hurtled forward and hit her with the force which had been building through time without outlet. Aren fell through the mirror with her left arm clutched in her right, her eyes locked on the remains of her limb in horror as the green light flared mercilessly. A cry of horror at the flurry of emotions caught in her throat and she was only vaguely aware of Cassandra catching her from falling to the floor. Immediately, Cullen had lifted her into his arms and she heard him barking orders.

“Get the healers, now!” Was the immediate order Cullen barked out to someone out of sight. The people in the room with the eluvian immediately scrambled into action.

“Maker… ” was the only reaction he had to the sight of his wife before he started issuing more orders for healers, assistance, and logistics. Cole vanished and she was left in a buzz of voices from Cassandra issuing a report to Cullen. The Seeker attempted to adhere to her dry fashion, but the sight of her friend’s arm slowly being dissolved by magic seemed to fray her nerves and her voice. Dorian interjected, briefly, but with an affectionate touch, he wrapped his half cloak tighter around Aren’s arm and exited from her sight.

Cullen carried Aren through the nighttime palace into their quarters. Leliana had instructed Cullen on the less-used passages to make less of a spectacle. With her arm covered by Dorian’s cloak, Aren felt oddly calm. Her mind was a mess of emotions so varied and strong that the effectively muted each other in clamor. The only thing left was a slow burn of anger which grew brighter as it spread to the forefront of her mind. It changed into a quiet determination which left nothing but the current emergency and her path forward in her mind. She knew the magic was slowly eating away at her arm, but she couldn’t feel it. With a quiet mind, she could look around objectively and watched the small retinue of people which trailed behind Cullen as he carried her. She could see the stern look of Cullen in work-mode, a small look of worry in his eyes which changed his face into an expression she didn’t see from him often.

They arrived in their shared quarters and the retinue of Inquisition members dropped as they remained outside and Cullen entered with Aren. He placed her on a single chair that he moved away from a table. Aren sat on the chair, hunched forward with her elbows on her knees, her right hand still clenched her left arm, wrapped in Dorian’s cloak, and jutted forward away from her. Her head hung down, eyes would be cast down at the floor if they were open. Aren’s short, dark hair cascaded around her head, creating a bit of a shroud around her head. 

For now, there was only one person at her side. Cullen sank to one knee before her, his hand lifting to tuck one side of her hair behind an ear. Aren’s grey eyes looked up at him, reflecting the quiet determined fire within them. His eyes didn’t blink as they shone worried, but also fiercely protective towards her. 

“You will be alright. I promise. I will ensure it.” He vowed to her. Aren’s head tipped forward, her hair spilling from its captor, and they pair sat together with their foreheads touching for a moment.

Wordlessly, the commander leaned back on his heels, beginning to remove her leather armor from her. As if on cue, Dorian entered the quarters and began assisting Cullen in disrobing the Inquisitor. She made little motion to assist them as her armor was removed and she was left in a sleeveless undershirt and simple canvas clothes.

The trio sat around her for a moment, Cullen’s hand caressing his wife’s right shoulder. Dorian moved through the room, pouring himself a glass of wine and leaving one near Aren’s right side, which she ignored.

The moment was short-lived as a duo of mages entered the quarters. Vivienne led Healer Benedict from Orlais. Her look was imperious, as if she relished the idea of leading another mage, but her eyes softened imperceptibly as she looked at Aren and her arm, still ensconced in the cloak. Cullen stood up and moved to his wife’s right side as Healer Benedict dropped his bag of tools and immediately began unwrapping Aren’s arm without a word. 

The Inquisitor dropped her eyes to avoid the sight of her abomination of an arm and leaned against Cullen’s leg slightly. Aren heard Vivienne’s breath change slightly as she tried to hide the involuntary gasp at seeing the show of magic and what was left of her arm under the cloak. Cullen coughed down an exclaimed curse at seeing his wife’s arm, but remained resolute at her side. Dorian made no sound, but Aren could feel his frown nonetheless.

The Healer didn’t say a word, but after a few moments he muttered something. Dorian and Vivienne seemed to confer in some sort of wordless noises and Aren sensed Dorian’s voice quiet in her left ear. 

“There is nothing to be done for it.” Dorian paused for a long moment and neither the Inquisitor nor commander seemed to react. He stated more plainly, “You will lose the arm. Below here.” His hand touched Aren’s skin above her elbow. Dorian cleared his throat a little uncomfortably, “He will have to remove what’s left of…. Your arm.”

For a long moment, Aren didn’t react. Finally, she looked up and scanned the people around her, deliberately avoiding the sight of her outstretched arm. Dorian’s eyes were sad and worried. Cullen’s face was a forced look of stoicism, but she could tell he was deeply worried and cautious. Vivienne’s eyes had the cold detachment which was her hallmark, but held a bit of matronly concern. Finally, she looked over the Healer who regarded her with a bit of impatience, but also cautious excitement. 

She took a few long, slow breaths, steeling herself for her next action. Finding the fire within and focusing only on that and its burning determination to move on, to continue forwards, she looked down at what was left of her limb. The arm had shed most of its mass and all that remained were charred bits of her bones, still attached to her arm. The rest of her arm had simply vanished. Despite the sparks of flesh dropping off into Dorian’s cloak, there was nothing left behind. The remains of her arm glowed a faint green, but no longer shed any flesh. It was as if it was a dying ember of Solas’ magic and it began to slowly die away. 

For a long moment she realized she had been holding her breath and she struggled to regain control of her breathing. Inhale, count to four, exhale on four, hold, repeat. She turned her head away into Cullen’s cloak edge at his thigh. 

“Proceed.” Was the only word she spoke.

In a rare moment of cooperation, Vivienne held the edge of her healthy flesh in deep cold to anesthetize the pain while the Healer worked at removing magically affected flesh from normal. Dorian kept the rest of her warm with a gentle warmth off his hands at her shoulders. Cullen was a stone sentinel, watching the entire procession uncomfortably, but refusing to move from Aren’s side.

An hour passed, an herbed glass of wine was plied upon her and she finally slept as the night gave way to morning. The first day of the rest of her lifetime without her left arm.


End file.
